


Free Falling

by missanonyma



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon-ish, F/M, Varchie!Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missanonyma/pseuds/missanonyma
Summary: s5 firefighter archie au
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Free Falling

He sees the fire before he gets the call, people gather on the sidewalk to watch in horror as the Pembrooke is burning. Chad Gekko, the asshole she married for a reason that’s beyond him, is frozen where he stands on the sidewalk. 

“She’s inside…” Archie hears him mumble, not moving or making any attempt to do something about the fact his wife is trapped in a burning building. Money can’t buy happiness, and apparently bravery either.

All of a sudden he can’t think, all he can do is act. 

He has no gear, no air tank, no axe, he doubts the guys on the job have even left the station yet but it doesn’t matter because she’s inside and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and save her, even if she still hates him, even if it’s the most reckless thing he ever does.

He leaps and grasps onto the end of the latter on the first fire escape. The Pembrooke has 25 floors, with the penthouse at the very top. For those 25 floors he fights through his shortness of breath, his hands turning raw from the old metal, and the pinch of his sneakers.

When he reaches the top, the same window he’s seen a million times. The one that from her bed you can look out and see the sunrise in the morning. The glass is heating up from the raging flames he can see inside, and without a second thought he breaks the glass and climbs in.

Within a second his lungs are full of smoke and he’s struggling to breath. 

“Ronnie!” he screams, charging through the room, looking around before moving on. He’s not leaving without her. He dodges pieces of ceiling that begin to fall around him. He begins to get worried he won’t find her when he hears a soft whimper, and there she is pinned under a few ceiling beams.

“Archie…”

It’s like his nerves don’t register that he’s touching wooden beams with some of it’s embers glowing with heat, because he doesn’t feel any physical pain as he lifts them easier than he should be able to. 

He’s heard stories about people getting crazy amounts of strength in do or die situations, he didn’t really understand how it was possible until now when all he knew was that he needed to get her out. He has to.

“I’ve got you, Ronnie, I promise,” he says and picks her up bridal style. Navigating his way through the flames back to the window he entered from, she’s coughing heavily against his chest. If he doesn’t get her out fast enough her airway will close and she will stop breathing. He hasn’t been able to save all the people he’s tried to save, but he’ll be damned if he loses her tonight.

Not that he even has her. He’s the cheating son of a bitch who broke her heart. But he’s also the only one who loves her enough to run into a burning building for her, knowing well that there’s only one way this can end.

He gets back on the fire escape, looking down he can see people shouting, he can see his guys working on the fire. But beneath his feet he can feel the stability of the building starting to give out. There’s no time to set up a crash pad, he only has one choice, so he jumps. 

He’s hugging her to his chest so tight and he turns in the air, ensuring he will land on the street on his back. That he will break her fall. That if anyone is going to bleed out tonight it’s going to be him.

If anyone’s not waking up after tonight, it’ll be him. 

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear as they free fall. That’s all he remembers. 

Then everything is black, it’s so dark, there’s so much shouting. But at the same time he feels warm, very warm, and safe. He feels comforted by the sensation of tranquility that he feels just swallow his entire soul. 

It’s like he’s drowning, but it’s not scary. It feels like he’s finally… done.

They keep her in the hospital overnight for observation, then another three days after that. She inhaled a lot of smoke, she’s not allowed to take off her breathing tube for the next few days, wanting to ensure she’s breathing good air while they do tests for lung damage. Her ankle is only sprained from the ceiling beams that fell on her, but ribs are broken from the fall.

Chad was here the first day but he went back to the city, all revved up and prepared to order an investigation to be conducted to discover who set the fire as well as sue whoever designed the building for not having a good enough escape plan, as if financial compensation is the most important thing in the situation.

But she doesn’t let herself feel bad for herself though because it’s worse for some people. 

She sits in his room all day, most of the night too until her nurse makes her go back to her own room. She doesn’t say anything, she isn’t even sure what she would say if she opened her mouth. One of the nurses told her if she talks he can hear her. That’s probably why she doesn’t say anything.

He saved her life, after he cheated on her and then she treated him like the devil incarnate for as long as they’ve been back in town. And now all that’s left to show if it is his beaten and battered body, in a bed inside the Intensive Care Unit, all alone with no living relatives left. 

She asked a nurse for the list of his injuries. Almost all the bones in both his legs are shattered, he’s going to have to learn to walk again. His concussion is severe, and both his shoulders were dislocated from the impact of landing. He has many broken ribs, his internal bleeding and collapsed lung was repaired with surgery.

The only reason his arms are fine is because he was holding onto her so tight. 

It’s been 72 hours and he has yet to wake up. He has a breathing tube stuck down his throat, and countless numbers of wires attached to him. 

She brings her knees to her chest, curling up in her chair beside his bed. He looks so calm. It’s rare for her to see his face without his brows all furrowed, he always looks so worried. She doesn’t stop herself from running the pad of her thumb over the scar between his eyebrows, just like she used to do.

All she wants is for him to wake up, so she can stop feeling so guilty. So helpless.

She treated him awfully, ignoring him, telling him to stay away from her, acting like he didn’t even exist. But he still ran into a burning building, he still saved her. And despite it all, she did hear what he said to her. He said that he loved her, after almost a decade, he still loves her.

She thought they were it, she thought they were going to go to college together, get married, have a baby. The universe had… other plans. But right now, she’s not thinking about blond ponytails and stupid songs written in a football players bedroom. All she wants is him to open his eyes.

She knew when she saw him, that first day back in town, that she wasn’t hurting anymore. Just seeing his face… It didn’t cause her all the pain it used to. But she’s one to hold a grudge, one to remember the past, because she refuses to risk embarrassment or pain. She refuses to look foolish. 

She doesn’t hate him, she chooses to remember the good memories they had, but she can’t ignore the tainting memories of crying and hearts cracking that come when she hears his name.

But while she can’t ignore the bad, she also can’t ignore how often she’ll indulge in reminiscing about declarations of love against sweaty skin in the late hours of night, fingers intertwined and muffled moans. She remembers purple bruises on necks and her thighs, tan lines from Christmas gifts, secret confessions they knew only the other would understand. 

But most often she thinks about waking up and him being in bed with her, that the past seven years have all been some twisted dream and she’s going to wake up in some shitty apartment in Brooklyn he convinced her into buying that she loves anyway because it’s theirs. But when she realizes her reality of sleeping in bed alone, her husband long ago left for work, all she can do is light up and wait until her eyes are bloodshot enough to see what she wants to see.

She feels so small, carefully laying down in the stiff hospital bed, curdling her hands around his arm and pushing her cheek into his shoulder. The beeping of the heart monitor taunts her, a machine has more to say than her.

“You need to wake up, Archie,” she whispers against the cloth of his hospital gown, somewhat hopeful the nurse was right and even in this unconscious state he can hear her. “I need you to wake up.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until wet fabric touches her face and registers she’s dampened his sleeve. Her hold on his arm becomes a little firmer and she searches for something more to say but for once her words fail her.

“I need you to… I need you…”

“Ms. Lodge?”

She freezes like a deer in headlights as her head snaps towards the door, making awkward eye contact with her nurse. “Ms. Lodge, you need to come back to your room now, it’s late.”

She can’t bring it in herself to leave him, not when there’s so much to say, not when he needs someone to be here and she’s the only someone he really has, even though he doesn’t know it.

“Can I just have five minutes? Please, I just…” 

The nurse nods, slowly closing the door once more. She sits up on her elbow, looking down at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks in a silent manner.

“Archie, I’m not ready to be in a world without you in it,” she manages to say, even so quietly.

She lays her head back on his shoulder and eventually falls asleep beside him. She only realizes that she’s fallen asleep in his hospital bed when she’s awoken by the sound of choking, nurses rushing around, and someone pulling her into the hallway urgently.

All that’s left for her to do is watch the nurses fuss over him, his breathing tube being pulled out of his throat, his eyes wide. He screams in pain and her heart genuinely tenses at the sound of him hurting. He looks so scared and overwhelmed, unsure as to where he is or why he’s here. 

He doesn’t know what happened to him, and honestly it makes her realize she doesn’t either, she doesn’t know what happened to them. When did things stop being as simple as I love you and you love me? She supposes it gets to a point where it's just not enough anymore. Archie’s the only real relationship she thinks she’s ever had, and in her experience if that’s not enough, then what is?

She wanted him to wake up. She needed him to wake up. As soon as he heard that it became that simple: Veronica needs him and he’s going to be there.

He’s not thinking about himself as doctor after doctor comes into the room to examine him, he’s not worried about his legs or how he’s going to pay for all of this treatment. He wants to know how hurt Veronica is, he wants to know who’s with her, if she’s alone, what she needs. 

He just needs to see her, and he becomes increasingly impatient when he sees her standing outside the ICU window, watching him carefully as though one hard glance from her and he’ll shatter, which honestly might be true. He can’t take her hating him anymore, it hurts too much to be a stranger to her.

But he’s never alone, he’s always surrounded by doctors and nurses, and he watches her face turn discouraged whenever she passes by and sees he has company.

She gets discharged quickly and he’s moved to a rehab facility now that he’s awake, where there are physical therapists who will help him walk again. 

He wants to get out of there fast, so he can take initiative and go to her. He wants to go to New York, get down on his knees and tell her that he loves her. She’s the image in his mind when he spends hours upon hours in the rehabilitation gym, long after the doctors’ shifts have ended, pushing his limits and hoping his muscle memory will decide to kick in.

Desperately gripping the bars on either side of him, his face writhing in discomfort as he forces one foot in front of the other. The braces on his legs make metallic noises as the joints shift with his movement. They’re so uncomfortable, but he’s not allowed to take them off until he has developed enough leg muscle to hold himself up without his knees locked.

His body is still sensitive, after undergoing surgery to stop internal bleeding in his abdomen, a head injury, and the impossibly extensive damage to his legs; the decollage of scars on his body have only been spread further and deeper. But he works through it, no one can do it for him.

It’s almost frustrating to think about how amazing his body was and how he took it for granted, lifting heavy weights and running great lengths. Now he can’t even walk on his own. He gasps when he loses his grip and falls flat on the floor, his chest slamming against the mat beneath him, knocking the wind out of him.

“FUCK!” he screams, slamming his fist on the floor. 

The room is so quiet all he can hear are his sobs of frustration. He can hear footsteps approaching him and he’s about ready to snap at whatever nurse is here to tell him to go back to his room, but when he looks up that’s not the face he sees.

“Archie?”

She looks scared and anxious when she kneels as he frantically sits himself up. Their eyes lock and there’s a moment of stillness before she pulls him into her arms, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair.

She doesn’t stop him when he pulls her into his lap, he just needs her closer. Next to him isn’t enough, he needs to hold her. She needed him.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispers.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he says honestly, inhaling her scent trying to commit it to memory. It’s the same perfume from when they were teenagers, the same one he had watched her put on a thousand and one times but never thought about until it wasn’t his place to watch.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t care,” he whispers, his fingers curling around the fabric of her top. “You’re here now. You’re here.”

He pulls away taking her face in his hands and looking at her worriedly.

“You said you needed, I’m here for you, Ronnie, I’m here for whatever you need. I just can’t take you hating me anymore, I can’t,” he breathes out. “I love you, Veronica, and I don’t care if you know it, honestly I hope you do and I just need to make sure you know even if I'm an idiot who doesn’t deserve you. I know I hurt you, I know I betrayed you, I know you’re married…”

She makes a breathy noise when his forehead meets hers.

“I’ve loved you since I was sixteen, I’ve loved you to points where it’s scared the hell out of me. My word probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m telling you I’m not a stupid kid anymore. I’m not an impulsive, ignorant-”

“Archie,” she whispers again, her hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

“What I’m saying is I’ve hurt and I’ve been hurt, and I know I hurt you the most and I’m so sorry. But I also love you the most, I love you with my entire being. And if you’ll let me I just want to be that person, I want to be the person that you love or… loved.”

He pulls back slightly, forcing his eyes to look into her teary ones. She looks so beautiful like this, even the tears in her eyes only add to her beauty. He’s in awe of this woman, just like he always has been. Everything about her is untouchable. He doesn’t now how anyone, how he, could ever not see that.

“I know you’ve changed, Archie, I know. You grew up. And I have too. And when I grew up… I fell out of love with you, and I stopped hurting. And I’m not gonna lie, it felt good,” her breath slowly became less shaky and more sure. “Not hurting felt good.”

His face falls hopeless, watching her expression. Her mind searches for the right words to say. His hands drop, moving back to his lap as he prepares to put on a brave face.

“I filed for divorce, Archie.”

He looks up at her, unsure of what he’s supposed to say now. She doesn’t want to be married but she doesn’t want to be with him either. So this is one of those movies where she chooses herself? This is the moment where he has to let her go because she’s a strong independent woman who chooses herself over a man?

He knows she’s independent, he knows she’s strong, god she’s the fiercest most selfless woman he’s ever met. All he wants is to support her, he wants to be the friendly face she can look to in the heat of her most important battles and offer the kind of comfort she can only find in a partner.

He’s not Chad Gekko, he doesn’t want a house wife with a trust fund. He wants a soulmate who will support him as fearlessly as he will support her. He wants her.

“Oh, um. That’s-”

“Archie Andrews, I came back to town and I fell in love with you again without trying to or meaning to,” his eyes lift up and all of a sudden he’s grinning like a mad man. She’s not… Oh god she wants him too.

“I fell in love with you by accident, just like the first time. And I can’t be with, let alone married, to a man I’m not in love with so I’m hoping-”

He doesn’t let her go on, they’ve been talking way too long. He grabs her face and kisses her so lovingly, he nearly cries when he feels her kissing him back.

“Don’t leave me again,” she whispers against his lips. He holds the back of her head, kissing her that much more earnestly. He could pass out at the feeling of her lips, realizing he’s not just recalling old memories, that this is right now.

“I’m never leaving your side ever again, for as long as you’ll have me.”

And with that she pulled his mouth firmer onto hers, not allowing any more space between their lips, not even the slightest fraction of an inch. The closeness of their bodies and the care they take in treasuring the moments their spending together set the tone for the months to come.

She visits him daily, she’s there to catch him when he falls both emotionally and physically. And with time his legs heal, and the sacrifice he made for her life brought back the love he lost. Physical wounds can heal, sometimes you need to learn to walk again, and sometimes not just in the literal sense.

Skin breaks, blood flows, and you heal. Words cut, realization infects, and the thing you loved with your entire body haunts you. Only you can heal yourself, only you can pick yourself up and become the person you were meant to be; because without your shortcomings you could never have gained the scars that make you who you are, that explicate your quintessence. 

Be grateful for your past, because without ever faltering you are unable to grow into the person who is prepared for the next shortcoming, and the next, and the one after that. And sometimes, even people who have hurt you, make reappearances. And sometimes things go differently, sometimes love is enough.


End file.
